


Served Cold

by melitta4ever



Series: Revenge [2]
Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 02:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12666708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever/pseuds/melitta4ever
Summary: Few years after "You can't trick Death".TWD season 7. After episode 3, The Cell. Daryl doesn't accept to be 'Negan' even after the torture.Negan does always have other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

 “So, he goes with other help?” Dwight asks, more like hisses like the snake he is.

“No.” Negan answers with a smirk that makes Daryl's skin crawl.

There is something seriously wrong with this guy. More than being a sadistic fuck like that fucking asshole called himself Governor. It's something different, more primitive, primal. Every time he's close by, Daryl has that feeling like something is wrong in the very air. As if every breath he takes around Negan leaves an aftertaste in his lungs; residue of some filth that Daryl cannot name and cannot spit or cough out either. Closest he felt like that was the time he saw the chupacabra. Even then it was nothing compared to what he's feeling around Negan. The moment Daryl saw the chupacabra, he new the creature was a predator, an unnatural one maybe. Negan is more than that. A lot more.

“Put him back to his cell, then send Dean to him.” Negan continues and Daryl feels the guy’s eyes on him even though he can't raise his own around the bastard. Going back to the cell is frightening. Daryl has been through enough in his life that he can't lie to himself about his fears. But the way Dwight reacts hearing about the dude, Dean, scares him even more. Daryl is not sure he can take much more. He knows he has to, just… “first shower him though; don't want him stinking up my boy too.”

* * *

Daryl is waiting in his cell again, now dressed in something cleaner and softer. Waiting. It is the hard part. Not knowing what is going to happen. Not knowing if he's gonna crack this time. Not knowing how long it's gonna take. Just not knowing shit.

By the time the cell door opens, he's ready to burst out of his fucking skin. And true to Negan's comment, the one enters is just a boy. A kid really. Maybe few years older than Carl. But it's not his age that throws Daryl off cause he knows age doesn't mean shit in this world no more. He looks more skittish than scary. The bruises on his face don't help it either. One eye getting ugly green-yellow mix, on the way of healing from a purple. There are small cuts and bruises around his face. And still, he manages to look pretty; heartbreakingly so. If Daryl looked half as pretty after his ass beaten, he would have gotten even more licking from his daddy to mess it up.

“Hey!” The kid waves awkwardly. Daryl gets it. He feels awkward too. He doesn't respond; waiting the other shoe to drop. Is the kid bit, maybe? Locked in the tiny cell, with no weapons of sort; is he gonna turn and start coming after Daryl? It wouldn't be fun to poke his fingers into these glimmering eyes to scope the kid's brain, but still…

“Your lucky day, dude.” The boy declares with a smirk, “I'm here to give you a blow job.”

Definitely bit then. Instead of an answer Daryl hugs his knees tighter and keeps his eyes on the floor, away from the kid.

“Seriously, it's not like you have a choice.” The boy continues, stepping closer to Daryl. “Don't worry, I'll make it good.”

Daryl hugs himself tighter and glares at the kid. 

“Oookay.” He steps back, but doesn't stop talking, “I don't know what your problem is, but we have to do it, okay? Negan ordered.”

Daryl keeps his eyes stuck on the corner of his tiny cell and ignores the boy's chatter which in time turns into begging of sorts. He just closes himself; goes into the warm space that offers solace during torture or grief. After a while the kid gives up and sits on the opposite corner. Silence. Finally.

* * *

 

The next time his cell door opens, it's Negan with his cocky smile that grates Daryl's nerves.

“So… how was it?” Negan asks.

The boy, Dean, rises up on shaking legs, “Sir… we… we couldn't…”

“I gave you a direct order, Dean.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean waits a spell then continues. “He… he didn't want it, sir. I couldn't convince him. I tried, I swear.” His voice is shaking.

“So, Daryl. My Daryl. You're not obeying me.” Negan moves in the tiny cell room with the grace that shouldn't be possible. “I'm talking to you. Look at me.”

Daryl manages to raise his head.

“So, Dean is right? It was you who disobeyed?”

Daryl doesn't reward him with an answer. That gets him a laugh.

“Okay, then. Dean, let's show Daryl what's gonna happen when he disobeys, huh? He's still learning.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean answers, but his voice is wavering. He, then, removes his shirt and kneels before Negan.

“Since he's new, I'm gonna take it easy, boy. Don't worry.” Negan claims, then suddenly thrusts the hand carrying his belt. Daryl didn't even realize him taking it off. Dean grunts, but holds on. 

“Watch closely, my Daryl.” Negan startles Daryl after hitting Dean a second time. “Whenever you refuse an order, this is what's gonna happen.” The third lick leaves it's ugly mark on the young body. “This time only ten, next will be thirty.” Fourth one raises a howl from young boy; the tip of the belt curved around his back and caught his nipple. “Silence!” bellows Negan, then quickly registers fifth, sixth and seventh blows. The boy's hands are shaking but he keeps his posture. “Dean’s gonna give you a good blowjob. And you're gonna let him. Then you guys are gonna perform in front of me. Understood?” The eight blow is even stronger. “Do you accept or shall I continue till I reach thirty?” He hits the ninth one and waits.

Daryl realizes Negan is waiting for his answer. He nods, can't find his voice around the guy.

“Good!” Negan registers the tenth blow which is strong enough to bring down Dean. He then holds the boy's head, petting him. “Dean here has negative effects on my men. They tend to turn against me after sleeping with him. But I don't have to worry about that with you, right Daryl? You're already there.” He laughs at his own joke. “I expect a nice show in the morning.” Then he leaves.

* * *

 

“So…” Dean starts awkwardly. “We're gonna do this or…” he asks with false bravado. He's scared and Daryl doesn't blame him.

Instead of an answer, Daryl removes his pants to reveal his dick which is so limp that it's almost hiding inside him.

“Whipping doesn't do it for you, huh?” Dean asks gesturing Daryl's flappy organ, but clearly he's not expecting an answer. “I should be glad. Otherwise, who can tell I'm getting whipped just 'cause you enjoy yourself.”

“I'm sorry, kid.” Daryl pushes his words out. He  hasn't been talking so long that he sounds strange even to his own ears. “I didn't know you'd get a beating.”

“He speaks!”

Daryl doesn't know how to respond to the sarcastic tone. The kid just got belted because Daryl was too stubborn; he deserves some leeway.

“Don't worry, man. I was gonna get that no matter what.. probably. Negan likes to show the rules from get go.”

He, then, helps Daryl sit down and moves in between his legs. All Daryl see is kid's battered back and his dick wants to hide even deeper in his body. However, everything changes when Dean engulfs the skittish organ. It's a softness that Daryl never have encountered before; a softness that exists only in the perfect world of commercial-land where you might drown inside stocked towel towers. His breath stops halfway into his lungs but Daryl believes he doesn't need breathing anymore. Dean's mouth moves, soft and wet and Daryl feels lust so strong that can drown him.

“There we go.” Dean stops using his pretty mouth-he has the prettiest mouth Daryl has ever seen- on Daryl's dick. “You're such a grower, dude.” He says with a smirk. “This is gonna be a challenge.”

Daryl doesn't answer. He couldn't if his life depended on it. He just wants that mouth on his dick again. And to his horror he realizes that he's not above begging. Luckily, Dean doesn't take too long a break and descends on him again. Then, he starts doing stuff with his tongue that is absolutely delectable.

 

* * *

 

“I never done it before.” Daryl manages to say, trying not to stare at the stripping boy in front him.

After giving him an out of this world blow job, Dean suggested they do the horizontal tango too. After all, Negan demands a show in the morning.

“It's not much different than doing it with girls. You'll be fine.” Dean answers cheerfully, getting rid of last piece of his clothing with such an ease that makes Daryl jealous. He looks at Daryl then, pretty all over and eager.

“I never done that either.” Daryl forces the words out. Now that the euphoria of the very satisfying head bang evaporated, he feels wrong standing next to the kid; big, rough, ugly. Feels like the beast standing next to the beauty in that story his momma loved.

Dean laughs, “Yeah, right.” But, not for long. “You serious? You're a virgin? No… Seriously?” He finally accepts that Daryl wasn't joking. “I bet that's why Negan chose you. He's obsessed with virgins.”

“Nah, not a virgin. It's…. Done to me… when I was… young…. Just like you.”

“I done it before… you know, before the world ended.” Dean corrects him, with a shy shrug.

“What? When you were twelve?”

Dean's laugh booms in the small room. “How old do you think I am, man? I was lucky though, I know that. Truck stop waitresses liked me for some reason.” He stays quiet for a moment. “I've never been anyone's first, though.” There's a gleam in his eyes. “It's… exciting.”

“Not a blushing virgin, kiddo. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“I… I don't mean it like that and you know it.” He, then, raises his head in alarm, “Dude, we gotta work on this. I don't know about the age effect but my first time, it took me like 10 seconds tops after putting on the condom. Now, we don't even have any condoms.”

And there it is. The world has ended with a big fuck you to all humankind... Daryl survived hordes of undeads.. starvation and shit… only to end up discussing his perfunctory period with a kid who looks like he isn't a day older than 17.

“Let's get on with it.” He says before taking off his pants.

Daryl hates being naked. Not just because of his scars either. There is something so depowering in having his ass bare to the world. Dean, on the other hand, seems like he couldn't care any less. He stands there butt naked, dick saluting and still behaves like he owns the room. Daryl cannot decide if it is courage or it just comes naturally with being this beautiful. It feels as if Dean wears his good looks like some kind of weapon instead.

“You like what you see?” Dean asks and Daryl realizes that he was staring. He nods. He does like it. He never allowed himself like a dude before, but deep down he knew. Just as his dad knew. And probably Merle too.

“I like what I see too, to be honest.” Dean grins. His white teeth shines and Daryl feels even more dirty just looking at them. Jesus, the kid looks like one of them porn actors. Clean, pretty and ready. “Come on, I'm all juiced up and ready to play.”

Dean lies down, pulling Daryl's hand. He gently guides Daryl between his legs and asks the question without words, just using his eyebrows. His hands feels so good on Daryl's dick that Daryl suspects the boy might be right to have concerns about finishing too early. Fuck! But nothing…. God! Nothing would have prepared Daryl for the feeling of sliding into Dean. The warmth, the softness, the little noises the boy makes…

He can't help but watch himself getting lost inside the boy, inch by inch. When he's finally buried all the way in, only then he can manage to take his eyes off. Dean is smiling. More like grinning actually, but it doesn't get to Daryl's nerves like Merle’s did.

“You don't have to wait on my account, Daryl. I'm ready.”

Yeah, Daryl isn't sure he is though. He knows that it's instinct; he's seen enough animals doing it. But it doesn't change the fact that he is darn nervous. The pleasure he's feeling is immense and he wants to see it mirror on Dean's face.

At the end, it doesn't really take too long for him to finish. While fucking the boy, he was sure, one hundred percent sure, definitely positive that he could continue after spilling. It felt too good to stop. But it didn't work out as he planned. He was spent, lying next to Dean and enjoying the tremors going through his dick even after coming out of the kid.

“So…. How was it?” Dean asks, all bright eyes, “did you get what all that hip was about or meh?”

Daryl doesn't have words though. So he shrugges instead. It was better than he ever expected. Better than his dreams. Better than his fantasies.

“Let me know when you can go again. It's gonna be better this time around. Trust me.”

* * *

 

Daryl always has a sense of time. He can guess what time of the day it is even when he's indoors with no windows. Not even sleep can rob him out of that inner clock, unless he's been shot or passed out cold. Now, he can add having sex in that short list. Apparently his inner clock sizzled and died on him when he was plowing in Dean's chute a second time. And now, he's lying down under Dean's lean body, trying to catch his breath, he can't even tell how many times they did it.

All he knows is that his dick hurts a little. A deep sneaky ache, throbbing in tandem with his heart. Jesus! His heart is still working, unbelievably. And Dean can't speak anymore. The kid could still manage to talk before the last one, but Daryl thinks he's sleeping right now. Smart idea.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Daryl openes his eyes to Dean's very cheerful face. His own face hurts just looking at the boy's grin. And he's sore in parts he never thought could get sore.

“Is it? Morning, I mean.” Daryl asks through parched lips.

“Oh, I guess.” Dean answers with a shrug and offers him a glass of water. “Come on, don't be so serious after everything.” He adds, eyebrows jumping suggestively.

Daryl might have said something if it wasn't for his dick sleepily standing up to attention. Through all the aches and soreness it still keeps rising. Daryl doesn't remember it being this eager even when he was going through puberty.

“No fucking way!” Apparently, Dean detects the salute too. “How the fuck, man? Don't take it wrong but even I can't get it up now.”

“My brother, Merle, he said he screwed non-stop for a whole weekend when he got out of the jug. He called it draining his back.”

“You mean his balls?”

“I thought so too. But now I understand what he meant. It really goes way deeper.”

Dean chuckles and jumps down next to him. Damn! Daryl can't look at Dean without remembering the boy's ass around his dick. The warm, silky softness… his dick twitches.

“At least we don't have to worry about your performance today.” Dean blurts and it's like a bucket of cold water on Daryl. Dean catches it apparently and continues, “You don't have to worry, man. You'll do just fine.”

Daryl grunts. He's still not sure if he can get it up in front of Negan. He loathes the guy that much.

 

* * *

 

Negan’s room is bright and airy; total luxury considering Daryl's past few years. It actually has comfortable looking and nicely matched furniture; a luxury considering Daryl's whole life. The carpet is soft, engulfing his bare feet with its long, thick beige strands. When he looks at the room, Daryl cannot imagine that the world went coocoos. Everything is so clean that it hurts Daryl's eyes. Even the beige rug; not a single stain. The only thing that darken the room is the presence of Negan. Everything around the guy looks like few shades darker; the colors look faded. He is sitting on an impossibly large chair, eating strawberries of all things. They smell fresh and sweet. It's been years Daryl even smelled one let alone got a taste. He can't help but hope that Negan would choke on them. Any one of them. Daryl wouldn't even get upset that he didn't get to kill the bastard.

“You know the drill, Dean.” Negan says, more like orders.

Dean drops his clothes in the middle of the room then gestures Daryl to do the same. But it's harder for Daryl than he anticipated. He doesn't wanna lose his protective layers. He doesn't wanna _perform_ in front of Negan.

“And you know the consequences, Daryl. Or do you need a reminder?”

He sure doesn't. Daryl gets rid of his clothes and tries standing tall and proud even though he knows that his charade is obvious to everyone in the room; including the strange kid sitting on the back of the room. His head is buried in a book almost larger than his torso and his shaggy hair is covering his eyes. However, Daryl is sure the kid is watching them.

Dean kneels in front of him. After yesterday, seeing the boy in this position makes him incredibly horny even under scrutiny. Dean takes him in and does his magic with lots of saliva and noise.

“Fuck his head.” Negan orders. “Use your hands and fuck him hard.”

Daryl wants to use his hands to strangle the guy, but the marks from Daryl's previous punishment is right in front of his eyes, marring Dean's pretty back. So, he heeds the ultimatum. Dean moans when Daryl starts moving, like he’s enjoying it. Maybe he does, but Daryl's bet is on him being a good actor. After all, he heard the kid loud and clear last night, many times; he thinks he can tell which ones were fake and which ones not.

Negan doesn't let Daryl forget his ratched presence, keeps ordering stuff, asking them to turn this way and that. Finally, after what feels like hours, he commands Dean to the bed on his knees, chest down.

“Rim him.” Daryl can hear the smug smirk on the voice. “Dean doesn't get to feel that pleasure much.”

Dean freezes in the bed. The kid is scared. What? He thinks licking a boy's ass is some kind of a line for Daryl? Not the fucking a kid because this monster asked? Not the performing a live action porn for the said monster. Not even the fucking a kid's throat until his nose foaming with snot and his face turned blue? But the licking ass is gonna make Daryl stop and let the kid get his ass kicked?

He drops behind Dean and pushes the kid's butt cheeks out. There it is, the puckered hole that gave Daryl a taste of heaven last night. A little red and swollen from all that fucking yesterday, but still, inviting as hell. He gives a tentative kiss. It's surprisingly soft  and flutters under his lips.

“Make him real wet, gotta save lube.” Negan says while splurging on strawberries and Daryl wants to gut him. He might use his blood as lube. That's an enticing thought.

He tries his best; licks, kisses, blows, sucks, nips that ass. He uses his lips, fingers and tongue. And Dean becomes undone under him. Moaning, begging, crying…

“Stop!”

Daryl realizes this isn't the first time Negan spoke. He was so lost in Dean's ass that he didn't hear the monster in the room speak.

“You liked it, huh?” Negan asks a bit breathless and Daryl realizes that the guy is jacking off. “Change of plans… I can't wait.” He pushes Daryl out of the bed, out of his way. “It was better than I hoped. Not gonna make it until the end of the show.” He chuckles.

So Daryl watches Negan fucking Dean. Old brute, still clothed fucking this pretty, pretty boy. Daryl forces himself not to move, not to try to kill the guy. Isn't this a perfect opportunity, a voice in him insist. But there might be a weapon on Negan. That's a good possibility. Also, there is this other kid in the room and Daryl doesn't know his game.. yet. The kid is now watching the action openly; his eyes are burning with hatred, Daryl can tell. So much hate that Daryl believes the kid might even help in killing the bastard. But a second look at Dean's black and blue back stops the mutinous thoughts. He can't risk the poor boy.

That's when he starts hearing Dean's begging. Begging to his daddy. It could be the daddy kink; it would suit for Negan but somehow Daryl knows it's more than that. It's worse than that. Negan comes; moaning, groaning and cursing. Daryl can't believe he hates the guy even more now.

TBC...

 


	2. Chapter 2

One of the lightbulbs must have a connection problem; keeps flickering on and off, painting already ill-lighted corridor into something mysterious and sinister. While tip-toeing next to the wall, Dean reflects how flickering lights mean nothing to him anymore. There are no ghosts left to worry. He has witnessed how monsters and demons are afraid of Negan, ghosts must be too. Or maybe watching their loved ones turning into mindless zombies is hard to watch even for them. That's just like something Sammy would love to discuss at length. He should mention next time they're alone.

With every passing man, Dean holds his breath; but so far no new orders from Negan. Yet. Dean has been planning tonight for a while and it’d be just like Negan to ruin it at the last possible moment. Finding Daryl in the warm room is worth all the anxiety though. He is lying down on the bed with knees bent, hands under his head. His long hair is wet, looking almost black under the dim light. Dean's eyes are magnetically drawn to those biceps that are barely fitting in the dark brown shirt he's been given. Fuck, just looking at the man makes him hard.

“Hey!” Dean can't help the smile spreading on his face even though what he gets is a barely there nod in lieu of greeting.

He has seen Daryl around since their performance day. And each time, the guy has been covered in dirt and grime; cleaning blood and guts of dead zombies. Dean knows Daryl gets the worst jobs because he stood up to Negan. He's strong and capable; he could be one of the best of Saviors; he could be Negan’s right hand man even. But he chose to be one of the help instead. And even the help hates him for it. But not Dean. Dean thought he'd never see anyone that would stood up to Negan. Not after Uncle Bobby. Not after Caleb, Uncle Rufus and Pastor Jim tried to avenge him. Not after every single hunter Dean knew died trying to eradicate the plague that is Negan.

“We have a performance tomorrow.” Dean explains, unnecessarily. Daryl’s been in the showers, and he's wearing cleaner, nicer clothes. It's obvious. “I wanted to stay the night.” Dean adds sitting next to the guy, “Not Negan’s orders. So you don't have to if you don't wanna.”

Daryl doesn't answer.

Dean enjoyed their night, immensely. And considering the way Daryl looked at him that night, he believed Daryl did too. But right now, looking at the stoic, brooding -and darn sexy- shoulders, he's not so sure. Maybe, it was only the heat of the moment kinda deal for Daryl. Maybe the guy thinks Negan plans to use Dean as some kind of elaborate punishment for him. Probably, rightly so. Also probably, spending the night together before the performance is just plain stupid.

“He's your daddy.” Daryl says out of nowhere. Not a question, a statement.

“He was.” Dean wants to forget that the monster is wearing his father’s face, but Negan -doubtlessly because of that fact- never lets him.

Daryl nods. He doesn't explode with anger or anything but Dean can sense the rage radiating from him. He finally raises his eyes and looks at Dean.

“I'm going to kill him.” He declares, cold and certain.

“No!” Dean can't help but cries. All he sees right now is Uncle Bobby: Lying bloody on the floor with a grotesquely deformed head. His blood and brain scattered everywhere around the room. Dean can still feel the warmth emanating from the squishy pieces landed on his arms and face. Just because Dean went to him for help. And Dean doesn't want to know how Daryl's brain matter would feel on his skin. “Don't look at me like that. It's not about being a victim or whatever fucking syndrome you're thinking. **I** would have killed him already if it was possible. Believe me, man; I wouldn't hesitate.” Maybe he couldn't do it at the beginning; but now... “You don't know half the things he's done.”

“Then why? You telling me you never had the chance?” It doesn't sound like an accusation, mere curiosity.

“Because he **can't** be killed.” But of course Daryl doesn't believe him. Dean tries again because he needs Daryl to understand; he needs him alive. “He ain't human, Daryl. He's a monster. I would know 'cause I used to hunt monsters.” Okay, maybe Dean should have used a different tactic because now, Daryl looks at him as if he has gone crazy.

He offers him a wrestling match instead. Daryl just looks at him and scoffes.

“I'm telling you I'm trained to hunt monsters. You'll see.”

“Yeah?” Daryl says, though it sounds more like ‘bullshit’. But there is a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before.

At their first trial Dean takes him down, fast.

“You're not even trying man!” He complains, while helping Daryl up. “Come on, show me what you got.” Now, they're both smiling.

  
  


Dean seems.. happy. His green eyes are shining. It's a look Daryl wants to keep as long as he can. And yeah, he wasn't really trying ‘cause Dean...he looks like a breeze might take him.

They try again. And Daryl admits Dean isn't bad at wrestling, but they can't reach a decision because their fight evolves to some kind of violent sex act in the middle of a headlock. Dean attacks Daryl’s clothes with fervor, kissing and biting. His hands are strong and persistent. His erection keeps poking Daryl and yeah Daryl is game. He captures Dean’s mouth and drinks his kisses.

Daryl kissed people before. Girl people. Maybe because he was always a fag that he never enjoyed them. They felt too wet, too slimy, too invasive. Kisses always forced him to act too wasted to stay awake in order to avoid the rest of the action. Or maybe there is something magical about Dean. Maybe the kid cured whatever was wrong with him. Made him desire. Dean did not just melt  the ice around his heart but dosed it with gasoline and lighted it ablaze.

“Fuck… Fuck!” Dean is writhing under him and Daryl feels fucking alive. For a while nothing matters. Not Negan, not who he's killed, not what he asks. Not the guilt… that bone crushing, suffocating guilt. Nothing. There is only Dean, his voice, his scent, his taste. He has to fuck the kid right now.

“You slick?” He manages to ask while removing Dean’s pants. “Need anything?”

“I'm ready. Oh Jesus! Fuck me already.”

And that is exactly what Daryl does. He enters the boy in a single move, all the way in. And it feels better than he remembered. He pulls out a little but has to go in back right away. He tries to focus on not hurrying, not hurting the kid but all he wants is to thrust and thrust until the warmness around his dick explodes. He manages to stop for a breath and looks at Dean. The boy’s lips are burning red. The result of their violent kiss; and the kid's been biting them too. God Almighty! Dean is the prettiest thing Daryl’s ever seen in his miserable life.

Dean rolls his hips; clearly wanting to go back to the fucking part. But now that he managed to stop, Daryl has other ideas. He buries his head into Dean’s neck, then licks. Dean is super sensitive there just like he remembers. The kid's hips wriggle like he's been electrocuted.

“Daryl… Please… Daryl… Daryl...”

Hearing his name like this.. as if it's part of a hymn.. Daryl doesn't deserve being chanted. He doesn't deserve the adoration in that voice. He simply doesn't deserve Dean. A beautiful boy who's been living through hell inside a bigger hell.

“Come on… come on. Touch me, man. Please.”

Daryl pushes his right hand between them. Dean's dick feels hot and slick, silky and hard. Daryl tries to synchronize his hips with his hands, but that's futile. He goes for squeezing Dean's dick between his hand and body.

Dean doesn't go easy on him. His nails are probably leaving long tracks on Daryl’s back while his heels poking dark bruises on Daryl's hips. The kid doesn't let him slow down. And Daryl fucks him just as hard until Dean comes all over himself and turns into some kind of a ragdoll.

When Daryl is done, which isn't much later than Dean, Dean helps them get clean.

“You're really good at this, man.” Dean says afterwards, making himself comfortable next to him, “can't believe you haven't done it before.”

“Never really wanted to.”

“No way!” Dean looks at him as if he's talking about little green men coming from starts, or monsters that can't be killed. Daryl just shrugs. “Not even when you were young?” Daryl raises an eyebrow. “I meant young **er,** young **er**.”

It's amusing watching the kid trying to pull back his foot out of his mouth.

“Never… I had urges sometimes, but not for anyone. Anyone specific.” He used to masturbate as a chore, sometimes trying to conjure images of the pretty girls to quicken the process. It only worked with some faceless blobs of skin though, nothing else. He never fantasized about a boy before though; his daddy's words and actions too powerful for him to even try.

“Daryl.” Dean sounds serious, the bliss of his orgasm has left his voice. “Please believe me. There is no way to kill, Negan. And there is no escaping him.”

“Because he is a monster?”

“Just wait. You will see yourself soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You like fucking **my** boy, Daryl?” Negan asks, standing way too close, right into Daryl's ear while Daryl is pumping into his fucking son as he was ordered like a good servant. “He's being all nice and welcoming to you? Opening up perfectly to your dick?” He moves from one side to another and Daryl forces himself not to react or stop, “Just keep in mind that he's mine, his ass **is** mine, his mouth **is** mine, and his loyalty **is** mine too.” Negan doesn't touch him but Daryl can feel his breath grazing against the hair on his neck. It feels worse than being licked by a walker. “Now, enough!” He growls. “It's my turn.” He jerks Daryl back, replacing his place immediately. “You fuck his mouth. I wanna hear him gag.”

And Daryl obeys him instead of breaking his ugly neck. Trying to break is probably better suited because Daryl has seen things since Dean's crazy claims. He's still not sure he believes that Negan is a monster in the literal sense; but after seeing the guy being shot twice at point blank range and somehow dodging the bullet both times… Daryl became _cautious_ so to speak.

“Fuck! I should do this more often.” Negan says with a grin, 'cause he just can't do quiet.

He fucks Dean -his fucking son- hard. So hard that in every move he pushes Dean deeper and deeper into Daryl's dick, choking the boy. Daryl keeps his focus on Dean; how the boy holds onto Daryl's legs to have some sort of balance, how his fingernails keeps digging into his skin, how his arms bulging with effort...

Negan finally comes with a rowdy grunt. Then looks right into Daryl's eyes, “You're using him only because I allow it, Daryl. Don't you ever forget it.” He pulls out of Dean and cleans up. “You go ahead, finish. And then, leave.”

The door shuts off with a loud bang and Daryl stops. There is no way he can continue fucking.

“Hey!” Dean holds on to his hand. “Come on, man. Don't let him-”

“What? Ruin the fun?” He growls; his voice quivering with suppressed rage. “I don't know you, but double dicking a boy with his God damn fucking dad isn't fun in my book.”

Jesus! Now Dean looks like someone kicked his puppy. If Daryl was a better man, he would stop to explain the boy it isn't his fault. He would tell Dean that he is not blaming him. At all. That he feels so much guilt touching Dean under these circumstances that it churns his stomach. And he hates himself for still enjoying it nevertheless. But Daryl isn't that good of a man and also he's shaking with such fury that he isn't sure he can even speak. So he leaves. The door shuts after him with a same bang.

 

* * *

 

 

Even cleaning walker guts out of the floor becomes mundane after a while. Right, left, water, squeeze, repeat… Daryl doesn't have to think about it, doesn't have to think about anything actually. Just listening to the monotonic rhythm the mop plays on the concrete floor.

“Have you saved an innocent life?”

“Jesus, fuck!” Daryl jumps at least a foot with that whisper. Dean's little brother, the creep, is standing right behind him. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Have you?” Sam repeats himself instead of answering the question; looking at Daryl under a curtain of hair. Daryl can't help but wonder what kinda psycho shit he's hiding under those bangs.

“What's to you?”

“I need blood of a champion for a spell to get rid of Negan.” The kid says matter of factly.

Yeah, this whole family is gone bonkers.

“So, have you?” He insists.

Daryl goes back to mopping; he's not gonna indulge the creep's craziness.

“Daryl, please. I have pretty much everything else ready. I just need-”

“Blood from a champion, yeah heard it the first time.” Sofia’s decomposed face pops into his mind uninvited. The way she walked out of the barn under Carol’s mournful cries. He worked really hard to save that little girl; really fucking hard. All for nothing. “I ain't nobody's champion kid, now skit.”

“Dean thinks otherwise.” The boy moves in tandem with every step Daryl takes; always just a breath away from him.

“Yeah? Why don't you use his blood? He thinks he was a great hero, helping people and hunting stuff.”

“I'm using his as the blood of innocent. Whatever Dean thinks of you, there might be a chance you are a hero, Daryl; but no way in hell you're innocent.” He says without humor.

“Yeah.”  He finally answers; it's just easier to play along. “I once saved a baby from walkers.”

Sam doesn't lose a second to ask for permission or shit, just cuts Daryl's arm with a big ass blade that he has no idea where the kid kept it hidden.

“Fuck! Thought you need a drop or something.” He sure wasn't thinking losing an arm; the boy cut him deep.

“Yeah? And you think vials of blood on my bookshelf would look just festive decorations and nothing suspicions.” Sam mocks while pushing piece of old rag to the cut. Jokes on him, Daryl actually thinks vials of blood would really be fitting decorations for the creep.

“Right. Whereas bloody rags are all the rage.”

That earns him a smile. The smile turns the psycho creep into a cute little boy for a moment. The kind of boy Dean always talks about.

“He'd assume they're Dean's. I don't know if you noticed, but my brother tends to bleed a lot. And I'm weird enough to keep them.” He explains while pumping Daryl's arm to speed up the blood flow.

“How much more do you fucking need?”

“The fabric should be completely soaked. Otherwise there won't be enough left to use for the spell.”

Whatever.

“Here, all done.” He pulls the shirt’s arm over the cut. “You're a big boy, you'll live.” He claims while his tone says he will be a-alright if Daryl doesn't make it. “And Daryl. Keep it from Dean okay? He'd lose it if he hears.”

Obviously. Daryl would too if he was the one getting punished for Sam’s transgressions. 

The little shit gets lost as quietly as he appeared and Daryl goes back to mopping. Who knows? Maybe it's him who has gone crazy. He sure wishes he's in an institute somewhere, popping pills and drooling on his straightjacket while doctors mule over his colorful fantasies and shit. If that's the case though, he hopes they don't mention all the gay sex to his brother.

 

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! After waiting for so long in my dark and gloomy WIP corner, suddenly my muse hit me (punched might be a better word) and I wrote this chapter in 24 hours. (Considering my usual writing speed, it corresponds to mere seconds in Earth time.)
> 
> So, errors in abundance, beware. But I had to publish it, my muse is a bully.

 

“You wanna do me?” Daryl asks. They both came while he was fucking Dean's brains out, but the boy is young and can do it if he wants to.

“What?” Dean blurts, “You'd do that?” His eyes are big with surprise, and hope too.

“I'm like a mail order fuckboy.” Daryl laughs, “I fuck and stop with an order. Don't think takin' up in the ass's gonna make me any more gay.”

“I… I don't know. I never assumed you'd want to. After.. You know.. Your experience.”

“Do **you** want to?” Daryl asks again, wishing that Dean will just drop it already; they talked more than enough on the darn subject.

“Yeah.” He's grinning like he won a prize. “Fuck yeah!”

It's not been too long after Darryl's bloody encounter with Sammy the Creep that Dean got another opportunity to visit him. He hasn't told Dean about that. He knows he feels guilty about lying by omission but that's not why he offers. He feels like he owes the kid. He really does. What Dean gave him… not just the sex which is incredible yes; but the acceptance, the warmth… just seeing how the kid lights up every time he's alone with Daryl… the way he hugs Daryl, like Daryl deserves it… Daryl owes him more than he can ever pay.  

Dean is so freaking eager that it hurts Daryl's face just looking at the kid's grin. Dean asks him to lie back, so he does. It's already different than the times with his daddy; the bastard always had him from the back like he couldn't stand seeing his own son's face looking back at him. Like it would change anything. And Dean is so slow and gentle about it that it feels like something else. Merle’s voice mocks him for even thinking it. 'What, Darlina? You call good ol’ fucking a _love making_ now, huh? You fuckin’ sissy!’

“I'm not getting any younger, kid.” He tries hurrying him up just to shut Merle's voice.

“I want it to be nice, man.” Dean answers and blushes immediately; probably he too realized how that sounded. “Don't wanna hurt you, that's all.”

“Yeah?” He can't help the teasing, “You ain't that big.” Dean is just too adorable looking like that even while fingering Daryl.

Dean is gentle when he enters him, slow, steady, and still ecstatic.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He grabs Daryl hard, his hips are actually trembling, not really rocking. “I'm not gonna last long.”

"Don't delay it on my account.” Daryl says. Even though it feels better than he could ever hoped, there is no way in hell he'll come again tonight.

Dean doesn't complain about Daryl's lack of enthusiasm; he is eager enough for both of them anyways. When he's going at it with gusto, pumping in and out of Daryl as fast as his muscles can muster, when his face is stuck in between ecstasy and agony, when his balls tighten against Darryl's own, the door opens with an ugly creak.

“Good you're both here.”

“Jesus Christ! Sammy!” Dean turns back to the owner of the voice. “The fuck you're doing here. Get the fuck out.”

“Like something I haven't seen before.” Sam shrugs with a dismissive hand. “Don't mind me.”

It's too late, Dean is already pulling his boxers on his painfully hard dick. Not that Daryl could continue when the freak is in the same room.

“Sam!” Dean asks with a bit of concern in his voice this time. “What's going on.”

“I need you to stay in this circle, okay? Both of you.” Sam drawing some shit with his own blood, dripping from his freshly cut arm, Daryl belatedly realizes. Apparently Dean does too.

“Is this blood? Are you fucking bleeding?”

“Dean.” Sam stops whatever the shit he's doing to look at his brother directly, “I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”

“Of course.”

“I need you to stay in this circle whatever happens. You hear me.”

“Sammy, what's going on?” Dean asks, desperate for an actual answer.

But Sam turns to Daryl rather than answering his brother, “Keep him in the circle, Daryl. Please.” Daryl nods; crazy family, crazy orders… Same shit, different day.

“Sam!” Dean is almost crying now.

“He'll sense this soon enough. I don't have time to talk.” Sam says instead of an explanation and then continues drawing chicken scratches on the floor.

Daryl tries his best to keep Dean calm, but the kid pushes him out of his way.

“Is this a spell?” Dean asks, watching Sam burning some shit in a heavy stone cup. “Witchcraft?” He says after a while, eyes big, unbelieving. He sounds broken, betrayed. “It **is** witchcraft.” He turns to Daryl, ”You know what's going on?”

But before Daryl could think about an answer the door bursts open.

“Hello boys!"

  
  
  
  
  


Daryl mutes the conversation between Sam and Negan after a while. It's a bunch of _‘How dare you'_ s versus ‘ _You will see’s._ He keeps his attention on Dean who is slowly coming out of the shock.

“Stay, Dean.” He says when the boy tries to step forward to his daddy, like a well trained puppy. Daryl doesn't know if he really believes Sam, but just in case… What's to lose at this point anyways.

“You got help.” accuses Negan when he tries and fails to enter the blood circle. “You're gonna tell me who helped you first.”

Sam doesn't answer anymore, reading something from memory, words washing over the room, ancient and powerful. Daryl can feel their crackling energy on his skin, in his soul. They charge the very air with something unnatural, something real heavy.  

“I'm gonna skin your lover alive, Dean. The first thing I'll do.” Negan must be talking about Daryl. Lover, huh? There is a first for everything. “By the time I'm done with him you both will be begging me to kill him.” All that snark but Negan sounds frustrated. That's a first too, a strangely satisfying one. Even if everything turns out to be bust, Daryl will be happy that he saw this Negan. “Then I'm gonna let-- no! I'm gonna order everyone to fuck your precious little brother. Until he doesn't have an asshole but a fucking rift, big enough to pass my legs through.” Jesus! The imagination in this bastard...

He can't pay attention to Negan any longer because holding Dean in the circle requires more work, a seriously challenging one.

“Let me go, Daryl.” He's crying now, big fat drops slowly running down on his pink cheeks. “He's gonna kill Sammy. Please, please let me go.”

“You think he's gonna forgive and forget?”

“Not me… but… please.”

Daryl needs to use all his strength, all the cheap tricks he has learned over his life, everything in his power, but Dean is strong, cunning, and desperate. Luckily, Sam finishes with a booming sound.

“You know you can't kill me, boy.” Negan says checking the newly opened hole on the wall. It doesn't open to next room though; it opens to fucking hell for all Daryl knows.

“You're not gonna die, Negan.” Sam spits his name, “You're gonna spend eternity with the devil. He's eager to have someone, anyone to keep him company.” He explains, his hands still drawing something on the ground, right under the hole.

“You opened the door, good for you.” Negan laughs, but can't masks his nerves anymore. Daryl wishes for a Polaroid so bad right now. “But you can't make me jump--”

“I can.” says someone, suddenly appearing right behind Negan. “You've been a worse nightmare than your sons, John.” The guy says, his voice radiates fear and demands respect. Daryl can't even look at him; just glimpses of his skeleton frame, hook nose, hypnotizing cane are enough to send terror waves through him.

Then Negan’s gone. The new guy sends him through the hole with a flick of his fingers. The hole closes behind him as if it never was there to being with.

“He's not coming back, is he?” asks Sam. He's the only one in the room who could talk in the presence of the stranger.

“It depends.”

“To what?”

“Don't let your brother make a deal with a demon. Whatever the reason. Not even to save you. Especially to save you.”

“What?”

“I have things to do, Sam; problems to solve like deads not staying dead.” He says with a sigh. “I came to help because unlike Winchesters, I correct my wrongs. Do not ever call me again. And do not do deals with demons again.” He says with finality.

“Of course.”

But the guy is already gone. Puff. Maybe Daryl was dreaming. Or he is dead.

“Is he really gone?” Dean asks, eyes still on the wall where the hole was seconds ago, where Negan fell into unknown. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Sam says matter of factly, then starts laughing. “Yes, he's gone, Dean. He's never, ever coming back.” The kid is hysterical.

The brothers hug, tight and long. Daryl has never seen them touch each other before but he knows that's because of Negan. No more Negan, no reason to play it safe.

He stands back, not wanting to mess with their moment. They're both crying, both sobbing and Daryl feels like enough of an intruder as it is just being in the same room. That's why he can smell it first probably, he was trying to stand away from them, closer to the door.

“Something is burning.” He warns because the boys seem like they need a reminder for the life beyond each other.

“Everything is burning.” says Sam, sounding like every bit of the psycho that Daryl has always known he was.

“What?” Dean asks, totally clueless when it comes to his brother.

“This place, the saviors, the undead around… everything.” He stretches the syllables of the last word for emphasis.

“No! Sammy.” Dean looks at Daryl as if he can help. He shrugs, he's not really in any position to beg for forgiveness for the so called Saviors. Dean turns back to his brother. “Sammy, there are innocent people there, downstairs… you gotta let them go. Hey look at me. You can't kill those poor people, you understand me.” He sounds more and more like a big brother, like Merle when he wanted something and was just letting Daryl know how his wishes were the rules.

“Okay.” Sam says, as if agreeing on something mundane and not not-committing mass murder. “But none of the Negans.” He says jutting his chin. “And no one who's hurt you.” He insists, looking right at Daryl.

Daryl knows -he would know even without the directed dirty look- he is in the second category. He hurt Dean. He helped Negan hurting him too. He fucked a boy with his father and he hates himself with fury for it. He can't imagine how he would feel if his daddy did it together with someone else, but he can imagine what Merle would do: Exactly like Sam; he would burn them alive.

“No!” Dean screams. “No, no, no. Fuck no!” He pulls Daryl in the circle again, an arm hugging him tight to his side. “You stay away from him, Sammy. I mean it.”

“It's classic Stockholm syndrome.” answers Sam, cocky little shit with big words.

“Yeah? I'll show you fucking syndrome, man. I'm not gonna let you kill innocents I said and I meant it.”

“You really think he's innocent?! Negan used--”

“If you start to punish those Negan used to hurt me, you gotta start with yourself little brother.” His voice is cold, like his eyes. “Or you think I wouldn't kill those sons of bitches before they touched me if it wasn't for you. Really?”

“I know it, Dean. I know... but you really think--”

“You're not killing him, Sam. No, just no. I'm not gonna watch you turn into mini Negan.” That stops Sam's self righteous attitude. He looks at Dean with big eyes, surprise and shock written in their hazel light. “Yeah. You do remember how he started right? First, stretching some rules, then bending them, then burning the whole rule book. It's slippery slope, little brother, slippery slope.”

Sam doesn't speak, he nods. But Dean doesn't let go. “Tell me you understand this, Sammy. Tell me I don't have to worry about you.”

“Okay, Dean. You're right. I'm not gonna do anything to your… to Daryl.”

Daryl can hear screams outside, the smell of burning flesh is getting overwhelmingly powerful. It reminds Daryl that ratchet place, Terminus.

“Are you burning them alive?” Daryl asks when screams get unbearably horrifying.

“They have all the resources to kill themselves.” says Sam with a shrug and as if they heard him Daryl hears gunshots. Screams dwindle down slowly, and finally there is quiet.

Daryl sits down, suddenly everything is too much. Negan is gone. Just gone. Saviors are done, finished and burned to the ground it seems. It's as if everything that kept Daryl alive is gone too. He held on the revenge so tight so long, he doesn't know what to do now. Can he even go back to Alexandria? Can he face Maggie?

“Daryl.” Dean sounds like like he's been calling him for a while. “Why the long face, dude? It's time to party.” His smile fades after looking at Daryl's eyes. “Hey! What's wrong.”

“Nothin’.” He gets up from where he was sitting and checks the door. “No more fire.”

He might not deserve to go back to Alexandria, but Dean... Dean deserves better. Taking the kid to a safe place is the least Daryl can do.

“Come on.” He nods to the door.

“Where are we going?” says Dean, not even questioning that they are going with Daryl.

“Somewhere safe. They'll ask you three questions before allowing you in, but you should be fine.” He looks at Dean, trying to etch his smile to memory, “You'll be just fine."

 

The End

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this last chapter is harsh on Daryl, but it's Daryl's POV and we all know how much he values himself.
> 
> Anyways, hope it's for your liking. Let me know either case.


End file.
